


a deer with a mouthful of poison ivy and barbed wire eyelashes

by americananirvana



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anger, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Tysh, Violent Fantasies, im posting the second chapter tomorrow probably so, josh x tyler - Freeform, joshler - Freeform, read it please?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americananirvana/pseuds/americananirvana
Summary: sometimes, josh hopes tyler dies.





	1. you

**Author's Note:**

> this is going to be a very personal story.  
> i was going to write this as an original work, but i find it easier to display my feelings through characters? if that makes sense. if it was an original work, i was imagining myself as tyler and practically everyone who knows me as josh.  
> so here it is.  
> it means a lot to me that you're reading this.

there are some days where josh absolutely hates tyler with every fiber of his being.

of course he doesn't mean that. he doesn't mean it.

josh is just tired, tired of tyler opening his mouth to say something that always starts with "i".

tired of his defeated voice proclaiming self degrading claims and pausing with hopeful eyes afterwards, waiting for josh's words of comfort, waiting for josh to give himself up for tyler. tired of every late night knock on his door and quietly murmured "come in" that leads to purple eyebags the next morning.

of course these very thoughts will soak him, drown him in guilt. he loves tyler, he does. he cares.

it just rots him away from the inside a little more every time he's wrapping his wrists and pulling on a sweater delicately and there comes a plea for help, a whine that cuts josh more than any razor blade could ever.

tyler doesn't care.

josh doesn't get a "how was your day?". josh doesn't deserve an "are you okay?". tyler loves josh for his honey sweet mouth and cotton candy lies, his attention. all tyler wants from josh is his attention.

josh can't kill himself. he knows tyler would blame himself, tyler would write a poem and read it at his funeral, and then feel the absence of someone to talk to, calling and texting every friend he has, telling them it was his fault and waiting for their reassurances and sunshine summer touches.

josh is sick. he's as sick as a dog, sitting patiently at tyler's feet, waiting for his turn to walk, his turn to talk.

josh's hands shake more than they used to.

he's tense at every moment of the day, waiting for tyler's loud footsteps or sideways glances or constant sighing.

in fact, he thinks dully, he's lucky he's gotten enough time to think all of this to himself. he closes his eyes, waiting for-

"i'm going to die alone."

josh's voice is monotone. he's heard the same phrase again and again and again.

"no you aren't, tyler. i love you. you have so many friends who love and adore you. you matter."

tyler sighs, frowning.

"i don't think you really care. you're just too kind to ditch me."

josh feels a cocktail of anger and misery swirl inside of him, like he's a blender about to short circuit. his fingernails, short as they are, dig into his palms. he stares at the round cigarette burns on the bottom of his hands.

"if i didn't care, i would have left by now. i love you." and those three words drain him more than anything else possibly could.

 

josh doesn't sleep. he's too busy digging a razor into his skin and smoking a cigarette, dropping the ashes directly onto the floor.

god, he hopes he fucking dies. he can't see the future anymore. it's just a cycle that josh sees no way out of, so he slits his wrists again and again so he can feel.

he remembers what happy used to feel like, vaguely.

warmth, an inability to keep a smile off his face. his hands weren't too cold to move, and they didn't shake.

it was a parade before, grinning faces and mardi gras queens perching high in the sky. he would sleep without tears staining his pillow.

today he's lucky. tyler doesn't come in, and he gets a whole two hours of sleep.

 

josh's eyes are still red when he wakes up the next morning, and god he feels so fucking dead. 

he's tired, empty to his very soul and he would rather be anywhere than here.

but he's got nowhere to stay.

he brushes his teeth, carefully.

his mouth needs to be clean for all the sugary sweet words tyler is waiting for.

 


	2. me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> josh, im sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna start a new fic even though i have others to finish

tyler is lying on his bed in the same position he's laid in a hundred times before.

a ceiling fan, and a blank white ceiling, taunting him, a perfect picture to match what he is.

god, he's breaking, spiraling, again. spinning down into a whirlpool with no end, water up his nose and in his eyes, gasping for breath.

a little bit of discomfort nags at the back of his brain as he stares emptily at his painted nails. it's chipping away already, and this is another tiny weight adding on to the tons on tyler's back.

he needs to talk to someone.

he wants his hands to be soaked in black paint.

his voice is timid, soft. he knows josh will hear it.

"josh?"

he stills his breathing, waits for the sound of josh's voice, reassuring as always, or josh's heavy even footsteps approaching his room.

silence.

tyler frowns, and his heart beats a little faster.

"josh!"

his breath is coming fast. he sits up a little, leaning on his elbow, ignoring the way his head spins.

calm down, he tells himself. josh might just have his earbuds in or, or something.

he tries one more time, eyes closed, mouth opening wide.                

" ** _josh_!** "

the utter, complete silence rings in tyler's ears and echoes through his bones, and this is when tyler realizes something is wrong.

tyler sits up all the way and swings his legs over the bed. the blood rushes out of his head and he stumbles out of his open doorway and out into the hall to the living room.

"josh?"

the bathroom door is thrown wide open. it's empty of josh.

he reaches the only other bedroom in the house.

he knocks cautiously, heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears. 

tyler swings the door wide open, and almost collaspes at the sight.

josh sits crosslegged, slumped over on his bed. his face is cold, devoid of emotion, and it looks like he could be dead.

except for the fact that his hand is moving in slow, methodical strokes, twisting his wrist expertly  to coax blood to the skin on his wrist.

tyler is frozen in a single heartbeat of absolute agony, before he's rushing to josh and pulling the razor blade out of josh's hand, struggling to shove it in his pocket.

josh frowns, a tiny bit, and reaches for another razor blade in the small stack beside him.

he murmurs, slicing another two lines across his wrist before tyler can react.

"it needs to be complete."

five bleeding lines that are permanently carved into tyler's mind.

finally, josh looks up to face tyler. 

a grin spreads across his face, but it's chilling, empty and corpse like.

"hey, tyler."

josh sounds so tired, and tyler feels everything of what was left of his heart being slowly boiled.

it's written all over josh's face.

tired tired tired tired tired tired

it's in the circles around his eyes, the slight downturn of his lips, the unshaved stubble that'll soon become a beard.

tyler crying, and the tears are dripping onto josh's wrist, diluting the blood and sending it in pale streaks down onto josh's sheets.

josh smiles faintly, some sort of sick humor behind it.

"i wonder if the salt in your tears will be enough to make sure these marks are here forever."

tyler chokes. tyler pulls himself together.

he grabs all the other blades lying like shreds of hope around josh, shoving them into his pocket, ignoring as one cuts into his finger.

he pulls josh up gently to the bathroom, and he relies on his instinct to do what he's never done before.

what he should've done sooner.

 

neither josh or tyler get better right away.

that's not how mental illness works. you can't love someone back to life.

but goddamn it if they aren't going to fucking try, tyler leaving soft kisses all over josh's face and josh wrapping his arms around tyler's waist, a grin with real happiness behind it stretching from ear to gauged ear.

things have changed.

changed for the better.

josh describes this to him as they sit across from each other on his bed one night, tyler entranced by the spray of freckles sprinkled across his face and cheeks.

josh says they used to have a parasitic relationship, like ivy climbing an oak tree, sucking life out of it slowly.

things have changed.

josh, with a tiny smile that makes tyler's heart melt, says they have a mutual relationship now. like a bee and a flower, doing good for one another.

josh is the flower, the gorgeous dye splattered flower.

tyler is happy.

things are changing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading. im always looking to meet someone new so feel free to dm me @ my tumblr !!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading.
> 
> questions? comments? wanna be friends?  
> tumblr: washedouteyes
> 
> feedback is greatly appreciated.


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